Know Not
by LightningDancer
Summary: Second person POV (read: slightly confusing). Ron has some thoughts, both internally and voiced aloud. Hermione is mostly just loud. Written pre-OotP debut.


'The first time our eyes met - it's the same feeling I get  
Only feels much stronger - I wanna love you longer  
You still turn the fire on..."

  
  


"Well, if he's so fantastic, maybe you should just go to bloody Bulgaria to be with Vicky buggering Krum!" I shout, embroiled with you in yet another spat over a simple letter. As foolish as I know it is to yell, I can't help but think that maybe one of these times you'll see some reason. I mean, if you were half as logical as you used to be you'd know that I'm right.

Our argument started simply enough. When the morning mail brought more than just molted feathers to our table, I- very innocently!- asked who had written you. Your eyes took on a shifty look that I know very well. Krum had sent you a letter. Viktor Look-at-Me, I'm-a-Great-Quidditch-Master Krum. 

I asked what he wanted. You didn't have to get all huffy about answering. Can I help that I'm a naturally curious person? Besides, we make Harry tell us when he's got a headache. The least you could do is tell us what a fully grown wizard from a country where citizens openly practice the Dark Arts has to say. 

"If you must know," you replied angrily as you rose from the table, "Viktor was just writing to say hello and that he misses me." And then you stormed away to the library and stayed there all day. I sat in the Common Room with Harry and played chess, knowing you'd have to come back sooner or later. 

That's where we are now. You eventually stalked through the portrait hole right as I was beating Harry for the twelfth time that day (poor sap never had a chance, really). You came over by our table and sat down, ignoring me in a very childish manner. "Have a nice day?" you ask him, turning your back to me. 

"Ron massacred me again. My pieces were so terrified to play his that I had to borrow Dean's after our third game."

"How about you?" I asked, ignoring you ignoring me. "Read anything interesting? Catch up on homework? Write any letters?" Harry leans back in his chair with a sigh, rolling his eyes.

"Not now, Ron. I'm in no mood to deal with you tonight." This got my ire up more than it already was. I hate being talked to as if I'm a child. 

"Why not now? Now seems like a perfect time to me!" We were already gaining the interest of several people in the Common Room, all of whom stopped whatever they were doing to watch and listen. 

Your face turns red as your hands clench into fists. "Fine with me, then," you hiss. "If you want to make a complete fool of yourself in front of all these people, don't let me stop you."

I give out a little scoff-laugh. "Me, make a complete fool of myself? You're one to talk."

"What's the supposed to mean?"

"Obvious. Here you are, mooning over some professional Quidditch player as if he were greater than Dumbledore himself! You act as if he's perfect. Well, if he's so fantastic, maybe you should just go to bloody Bulgaria to be with Vicky buggering Krum!"

You throw your hands up in the air in frustration. "Are you going to bring this up again? Up until last year, you loved Viktor Krum! 

"Now I don't!"

"The funny thing is," you laugh ironically, "you don't even know why."

"What do you mean, why? I know perfectly well why I dislike him, and that's because he's a Death Eater!" 

"You don't know that! You're making assumptions based on generalizations." I'm about to call you a walking textbook, but your next comment stops me in my tracks. "Just because you haven't realized the actual reason that you hate him doesn't mean I haven't."

You're not even making sense now, and I voice this opinion. You get a lofty look on your face. "I wouldn't expect you to understand me; you're a boy." You rise from your seat and run up the staircases to the girls' dormitory amidst cheering from the female spectators.

I turn to Harry, who is red in the face from suppressing his laughter. "What in the bloody hell was that supposed to mean?" 

He just chuckles and starts to put away Dean's chess pieces. "If you have to ask, you'll probably never know." I guess he senses how angry his response makes me, so he quickly changes the subject. "Why do you do that to her?"

"She deserves it."

Harry rolls his eyes again; he's been doing a lot of that lately. "What did she do to deserve that scene?"

I can't think of an appropriate response. "I'm only trying to protect her, you know," I say defensively. 

"From what?" I'm not sure how to answer this, either.

"He's too old for her," I say instead.

Harry rolls his eyes one final time. "Don't you think she's realized that?" He grabs the chess box from the table and walks up the stairs with it, calling a goodnight over his shoulder. 

I'm left to ponder the actions of both of my best friends. One's a raving lunatic specializing in cryptic messages, and the other is... I'm not sure what you are. I really do mean well, as unbelievable as it sounds. It's just not safe, you running around with someone so much older. I'd do the same for Ginny if she were in your position. Not that I think of you as a sister or anything... I would never stoop so low as to classify you as a sibling along with Percy. 

It's almost sometimes like I don't know what I say to you. I just get so angry, and you drive me to say things I don't mean. I don't know why, because no one else makes me lose control like that. In any case, when I'm with you I lose track of myself. And curse me if I'm wrong, but it's not like I can stop being your friend when I think you need me. I wouldn't be a very good friend if I did, now would I?

  
  


"Please forgive me- I know not what I do.

Please forgive me- I can't stop loving you.

Don't deny me this pain I'm going through.

Please forgive me- if I need you like I do."


End file.
